


i would trade this sleep for you

by benditlikepress



Category: NCIS
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Episode Tag, Episode: s10e21 Berlin, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Past Relationship(s), Sharing a Bed, Tony and Ziva skirt around the issue: a memoir, could feasibly have happened, half missing scene half canon divergence tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-31 15:11:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21147767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benditlikepress/pseuds/benditlikepress
Summary: "I've enjoyed this trip down memory lane. The two of us in a European hotel room, me making conversation with myself while you don't tell me what's on your mind."With their flight back to DC not until the next morning, Tony and Ziva head back to their hotel room for the night after capturing Yaniv.





	i would trade this sleep for you

**Author's Note:**

> this doesn’t fit explicitly into the canon timeline because Tony and Ziva flew straight back to the US with Yaniv. I'm not typically a fan of showing people's trauma through the eyes of others, but I found Ziva's push and pull to and from Tony in Chasing Ghosts + Berlin + Revenge to be intriguing and I thought this would be the best way to access that interesting period in their relationship
> 
> I’ve spoken to a lot of people who have theories about the two of them maybe having a thing on and off throughout the show and I wanted to write something that leans very slightly into that? 
> 
> Title is from Now, Now – Prehistoric 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own them they’re just the loves of my life

Ziva didn’t look up when Tony stepped out of the bathroom. It was midnight by the time they had got back to the hotel, and Tony had headed straight to the shower to give Ziva a bit of space to deal with what had just happened. Yaniv was currently in the custody of the French authorities who were babysitting him until they could take him back to DC in the morning.

Ziva had already changed into a tank top and bottoms, her dress from the club laid out on the bed. She was hunched over at the desk at the far side of the room. It was difficult to see her expression, her hair falling forwards over her face.

“Y’know, I’m surprised you trusted the French authorities with Yaniv. I thought you might bring him back to the room with us.”

Tony had expected Ziva to blow a gasket when McGee apologetically told them the earliest flight back to DC was at 10am the next morning. She was surprisingly calm, though, accepting his apologies with little more than a resigned sigh.

“I saw you yawning, I assumed you would not be keen to spend the night watching him.”

Neither of them had ended up actually getting to sleep when they tried to hours earlier (and thus Tony had seen no need for his planned shower at the time). They had pretended for a while, too quiet and poised, both fully aware the other was faking.

He approached the desk where Ziva was sat and saw she had some papers and a diary sprawled out in front of her, pen in hand.

"What are you doing?" Tony signalled the papers as he ran a towel through his hair.

"Noting everything down. Do not want to forget."

"You never forget anything."

"Not taking any chances."

She seemed calmer since they had arrived. Whether it was the increasing closeness to catching Bodnar, the very real capture of Yaniv, or just the change of scenery. Tony would be lying if he said he didn't also wonder if it was the fact they were here together, the two of them.

It was good to spend some time with her on her own, even if she was quiet. Tony couldn't pretend he wasn't a little hurt that Ziva had asked McGee to help her track Bodnar first and not him but realistically he knew why. McGee and Ziva were the kind of friends who would help each other out, no questions asked. His and Ziva's relationship was different. Neither of them had ever been capable of let things lie where the other was concerned.

Still, it was him that had ended up in Berlin. And it was true that she had been more open with him since they’d got away from DC. That had to count for something.

Ziva's hand was absently playing with her necklace and Tony watched it, her fingers spinning the Star of David around, twisting the chain and then releasing it.

“Let's not think about it. Just until the morning."

"If only it were that simple."

"It could be. Come on, we can do whatever you want... within the confines of this hotel room. Wanna order room service? Watch a movie? Prank call McGee?"

“Not any of that.” Ziva dismissed him.

“OK, let’s just relax then. Enjoy our final few hours here.”

Ziva looked at him carefully but hummed and got up from the desk.

Tony wasn’t sure why he kept doing it; making veiled comments about this being some kind of fun sightseeing holiday rather than the reality. It wasn’t fooling either of them. Actually, that was a lie – he thinks they both might have brought it, if just for a second, when they ended up slow-dancing to Julie London.

They ended up sat side-by-side on the pull-out, just enough room for the pretence of a few millimetres of space between their legs.

"Isn't it funny how-"

"I am sorry." Ziva interrupted before Tony could continue his train of thought, and he was grateful because he hadn't yet figured out where that sentence was going to go.

"Sorry for what?"

"Keeping things from you. Even if you are not happy about it, you understand why?”

“I understand the reason. Don’t agree with it, but..”

"'Bodnar Boundaries,'" Ziva repeated his words from the plane.

"Exactly. But as long as I'm saying that, you need to know that I have my own 'Bodnar Boundaries' too."

"Meaning?"

"If something goes bad, you're going to struggle to stop me from getting involved."

Ziva bit her tongue rather than respond. Tony knew she'd believe it, but whether she would listen was another question. "I am also sorry for keeping you at hand's length." Tony squinted in confusion. "Not the correct phrase?"

"No. But I get it."

"I realise it probably means nothing when I am still acting this way. But for what it's worth, I do not think there is anybody I would rather be here with. You can be a good distraction."

“Is that what you want? Distraction?”

“Sometimes.”

“And the other times..?”

“Tony, you know very well what I want.”

"So long as you know-" Tony hesitated over the end of the sentence. He was struck again by the nerves he sometimes felt in Ziva's presence - she must be the only person in the world who could make him anxious of what to say or do next. It was usually a case of 'feeling the fear and doing it anyway', but now the words stuck in his throat.

"I know." she finished for him, smiling peacefully.

It felt like all their conversations over the last few months - since Harper Dearing, really - were 5 seconds away from getting into more serious territory, less-travelled waters. The easy intimacy between them had been lost a little since Eli's death, but it was probably to be expected. It wasn't as if they weren't as close anymore, but the openness wasn't as easy to come by.

Tony stretched his legs out in front of him, relaxing back further into the seat. "I wish McGee the Waiter was here at our beck and call. I could kill for a burger."

"It is almost 1am, Tony."

"I told you before, danger makes me hungry."

"Does not surprise me."

"What are you implying?"

"I am not implying anything. I have just never known you to skip a meal." Tony looked self-consciously down at his stomach, and heard Ziva chuckle before she patted it. "It is still-all muscle, I know."

Usually Tony would give as good as he got with Ziva, but he was far too tired to think of something clever to retort and too cautious to say something dumb that he knew would only fuel her even more. "Alright, choosing to ignore your tone."

"If you are really so hungry, McGee is not the only waiter on the planet."

"It's not the same when you can't rub his face in it. Maybe we should give him a call.."

Ziva tutted. "Leave him alone. He has done a lot for me."

Just like that, the moment was gone. Tony tracked Ziva’s eyeline to a spot on the far wall by the bed. It seemed like that was that. 

Tony took initiative and found the television remote, turning on the TV situated on the wall opposite the bed. He sat down with his back against the headboard, ankles crossed over each other, cycling through channels until he landed on a British nature show of some kind, subtitled in German.

Ziva was watching him from the pull-out but didn't hesitate to get up when he patted the bed beside him. She picked up her dress from where she had laid it and took it to the wardrobe.

"You looked good tonight." Tony threw out, earning him a knowing smile. "What?"

"Nothing." Ziva conceded, joining him on the bed. She put one arm on the headboard and folded her legs diagonally beneath her, so she was turned slightly towards Tony.

On the TV, a pack of lionesses were confronting a buffalo. They surrounded it in formation, and the buffalo made noises of alarm as they took turns to approach it and jump back. Tony’s exhausted eyes struggled to follow the images, and when he turned to Ziva she was staring at the screen with the kind of intense precision that made it clear she wasn’t actually watching. Tony wondered if their previous conversation was still stewing in her mind the way it was his.

"Must've been hard for McGee keeping it a secret." He threw out eventually. Ziva looked at him briefly before turning back to the TV.

"You know McGee. He is loyal."

"I know he is. But still, terrible liar. Guilty conscience. Keeping secrets like that from his best friend.."

"McGee is your best friend?"

"I'm his." Tony clarified, and then smirked at the tone in her voice. "No need to panic, plenty of DiNozzo to go around."

Ziva rolled her eyes. "Not why I was asking."

"Sure. OK. I know you have plenty of other friends. Here’s four right now." Tony signalled the TV, where one of the lionesses had jumped jaw-first into the buffalo, and the others soon joined her.

"Do you think it is a bad thing that all of our important relationships are people we work with?"

The question made Tony take pause. "I think.. just because you meet someone at work doesn't make them less important."

Ziva smiled. "Good answer."

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

“I am not surprised, I suppose I have just never thought of it that way. It is inevitable in our line of work – that the people you see every day would become the ones who are most important to you.”

“Then again, maybe that’s just what people in our line of work tell ourselves as we get older alone.”

“Exclude me from that, thank you.” Ziva sounded mildly false-offended, and Tony conceded it was a little morbid of a thought. It was true, though. He was getting older and it was becoming harder to justify why he struggled to make relationships work outside of the job. Then again, he knew a big reason for that was currently sat next to him watching a lioness devour its prey, stealing glances in his direction as he was silent.

“I’m kinda beat. Do you mind if we get an early night? Early being relative.”

Ziva refocused on him, her expression kind. “Of course not. We have to be up at 7 to meet the police with Yaniv and head to the airport.” She picked up the remote from between them and flicked off the TV.

"Don't turn it off on my account."

"You are probably right about getting some rest before tomorrow."

Tony leaned forward to remove the t-shirt he had thrown on after his shower as Ziva situated herself under the covers.

There was no pretence about sleeping on the pull-out like there had been earlier. Of course, they had shared a bed many times before. It felt natural when Tony lay down next her, and though there was space between them, there was no air or tension about it. Tony reached over to turn off the light next to him, but the room still wasn’t pitch black due to the fact that neither of them had thought to close the curtains. Still, they had slept in worse.

* * *

Tony lay with his eyes closed for ten or fifteen minutes, but no matter how tired he was sleep was hard to come by. It wasn’t helped by the eyes he could feel boring into him. Ziva hadn’t moved a muscle since they’d lay down, and seemingly hadn’t stopped watching him either.

“Stop watching me.” Tony mumbled.

“I cannot sleep.”

“I know, I would’ve heard you.” Tony kept his eyes closed still though he could feel his face was close to Ziva’s, the edge of his pillow dipped where she seemed to be resting on it.

“It has been a long time, has it not?”

“What has?”

“Since we have done this. Hotel room.”

“Not that long.” Tony responded, eyes open and with a wistful smile. It was funny how this trip seemed to have brought some things to the surface – usually the two of them steered clear of conversations about riskier topics from the past. But the references to their first undercover mission, and now Paris, were starting to stir other memories in Tony’s head. A handful of nights at Ziva’s apartment the summer Gibbs retired, the weekend after Jenny before Ziva left for Israel. They didn’t always have sex those nights (though of course sometimes they had done, barely acknowledged or spoken about until the next time had come around). Tony was certain it wasn’t on the cards tonight. He guiltily cast the thoughts from his mind, watching Ziva as she stared at a space over his shoulder. "How've you been sleeping?" Ziva looked into Tony's eyes briefly and gave the slightest of shrugs. "I already know the answer. I'm giving you an opening."

"What do you want me to say?"

"I don't _want_ you to say anything. I just.."

Ziva sighed, more directed at herself. "I know."

"Had any more nightmares?"

"No," the reply came quickly, and it was difficult to tell if it was an exasperated truth or a practiced lie. Ziva lifted a hand and placed it on Tony's cheek, tapping it slowly. "I do appreciate it. Even if it does not always seem that way."

Part of Tony had been questioning lately if he cared more about her than he did himself. Was it duty? Loyalty? Desire to protect? If someone was being unkind they would probably have called it a hero complex. There wasn't much illusion left at this point in time. He was certain that Ziva understood that his concern for went beyond what he would extend to anyone else - no, this was different, and of course it was different because it's _them_.

“Hey, do you remember that summer after LA,” ‘that summer’ could refer to many in Tony and Ziva’s collective histories, though he hoped context would lead Ziva to the right one, “the day Vance reassigned us, and you came and found me at the bar?”

Ziva smiled. “You insisted you had not had a single drink yet, and when I said I could smell it on your breath you scolded me for leering over you.”

“You looked out for me.”

He searched Ziva’s eyes for an element of understanding, wondering if he would need to carry on or if she gauged his point. They had each other’s backs even when the other didn’t want the help. The best example of that was Michael Rivkin, but really there was never an appropriate time to bring that up, so he just looked at her instead. She wasn’t smiling, not quite, but there was a softness in her eyes as she returned his gaze.

Tony turned himself so he was lying on his back, but kept his head facing towards Ziva so as not to close her off.

“And then the next night..” Tony trailed off with a raise of his eyebrows and a grin, remembering knocking on Ziva’s door. She had been getting ready for bed but it had only taken five minutes before he had been accompanying her, her legs wrapped around his waist as they kissed desperately wondering when they would see each other again. That night was comfort-seeking, same as this one. Though the mood couldn’t have been more different.

“What has brought this on?” Ziva didn’t acknowledge Tony’s reference, but her brow furrowed ever so slightly.

“I don’t know. Just been thinking about everything.” Ziva still seemed to be at a loss for where to take the conversation, so Tony continued. "I've enjoyed this trip down memory lane. The two of us in a European hotel room, me making conversation with myself while you don't tell me what's on your mind."

"I thought you said we should not talk about it tonight."

"No, I didn't. I said we shouldn't _think _about it. And I can tell you're failing that mission."

"I cannot control my brain like that."

"I meant what I said. Act like you're just with me." His voice was barely above a whisper as he spoke. He did that a lot these days. He was aware he was doing it - the quiet voice only seemed to materialise when he was talking to Ziva. It used to make her eyes widen a little, surprised at the sincerity, but she just smiled at him now.

"I wish I could."

"I almost had you, on the dancefloor. Don't pretend I didn't have you hooked for a second."

"You reminded me of something my father said."

"Oh?"

"Someday I will tell you."

"Looking forward to it." Ziva watched Tony then, the ease in his voice reflected in the smile on his face. "What is it?"

"You are a simple man, Tony."

"Gee, thanks."

"I do not mean it as an insult. Really, it is what I like about you. I feel as though I am not searching constantly for the truth or an ulterior motive with you."

"It hasn't always been that way between us."

"No. And still is not always that way. But I feel as though we know each other. I appreciate that."

“What is it that you know about me?”

Ziva pulled an appraising though affectionate expression. "You are sentimental at heart. Sometimes I wonder if I am too."

"You aren't sure?"

"It is not often I think of something worth remembering." Ziva's voice was quiet, and brutally honest in a way she wouldn't be normally. It’s funny what a night away from home can do, the sense of detachment from reality it can bring. Allowing room for clarity.

Tony was still lying on his back, and he rolled his neck a little to relieve the rising pain he felt from having it strained to turn towards Ziva. It was still slightly stiff from the plane.

“Sorry, I am keeping you awake. You said you were tired.”

“It’s ok. I couldn’t sleep with you staring at me anyway.”

“I do not want you to be cranky all day tomorrow.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve still got life in me yet, in spite of what you might think.”

"I do not think you are old, Tony. You think I do. You have a complex about it."

Perhaps he did. He had always been a little self-conscious of his age when around Ziva, especially because she evidently sniffed blood and so would naturally make little comments to get under his skin about it. When they had first met, she wasn't yet 23. Already a former soldier turned assassin who had experienced more loss than most would in their lifetime.

“Still young enough to do the things that matter.”

“Reassuring.” Ziva’s brow furrowed in an amused way, and she smiled.

“I think maybe I’ve got a Benjamin Button thing coming on. I’ll let you know.”

He wasn't sure why he said it - purely because it was something to say. Something other than addressing any of the several varied 'things' now hanging over them.

“Uh-huh. I will look forward to that.”

“You’re lucky I have such high self-esteem or your sarcasm might really hurt my feelings one of these days.” Ziva smiled wider then, in that faux-irritated way she did, and Tony was endlessly grateful that this trip had come when it did. It was reassuring to see her happy, even for a moment. “It’ll be great. You can be my Daisy.”

“I have never seen that movie, so I am not sure if that is a compliment or not.”

“We can watch it when we get back to DC, if you like.”

“Rain check.” Ziva replied after a beat, her smile still there but more tight-lipped.

Tony, again, found himself wrestling with the silence that followed.

When he didn’t say anything, Ziva placed her hand on top of his. It wasn’t holding – more like touching. An invitation. Tony didn’t move for a few seconds, but then Ziva took the initiative and lifted the edge of his hand with her thumb so it was palm upwards.

She threaded their fingers lightly, just enough that they were latched onto each other. Tony wondered briefly if she initiated the contact to try and distract him so he wouldn’t bring up the Bodnar showdown she was evidently hurtling towards, but immediately felt guilty when she turned onto her side, shuffled towards him, and tucked her head into his neck.

“Thank you for coming with me.”

“Anytime. You know that.”

Tony bent his arm so their hands and lightly-entwined fingers ended up on his chest.

Maybe this is what Tony had been seeking all along. Not the contact itself, but Ziva reaching out even in a small way. It sounded a little selfish though that wasn't how he intended it - ever since she had walked into the house that fateful day, he had waited for her to show signs of processing her loss in a way that wasn't fuelled by revenge. There had been glimpses of course. Her tears at the airport as she embraced him had spoken for them-self. But the Bodnar of it all was still occupying her thoughts and he found himself looking for her constantly, conscious of what she might be planning. He could rarely remember being so worried about her (and he'd had plenty of reason to over the years).

It was actually Ziva herself that had inspired this frame of mind. Ziva who he had chased around DC to a hotel pool, who he had stood with in the rain and eaten pizza as she warned about trying to process grief through revenge. She had had an ulterior motive that day, of course; trying to protect her brother from becoming another member of her family to die young. But he had believed what she said about Tali's death and its effect on her, and it had only been proven more accurate over the years as he had learned more about her.

Tony’s thoughts were interrupted by Ziva turning herself further into him, lifting her leg to tuck it between his. Tony removed his hand from Ziva’s and lifted his arm to place around her, pulling her in further still. She kept her lone hand on his chest still, and so he lifted his free one and stroked his fingers over hers.

Knife’s-edge didn’t seem an accurate phrase to describe the current state of their relationship. They had been there before – the precipice of something, ready to fly from one extreme to the other and not knowing which way it was going to go. This was different. There was an inevitability; Tony knowing Ziva would clam up again in the morning, still hell-bent on the revenge she thought Tony wasn’t fully aware of. And perhaps he wasn’t. Maybe he wouldn’t know how far she was going to go until it happened. He knew, realistically, there was little he could do to stop her if she had her mind set on something.

Tony's hand behind Ziva’s back that had been clasping her forearm lifted to her head. He brushed her hair out of her face and pressed his lips slowly and lazily against her forehead. She reacted to the touch, shuffling against him.

'_I love you'_, he thought to himself, and he didn't say it because he never says it and at this point he thought there might be some kind of Gibbs-crafted word-specific forcefield between them which would electrocute them both if they tried. Really he could think of no other reason why it seemed so terrifying to get the sentence out.

"Tony," he heard a whisper, and he wasn't sure he recognised the tone in her voice which is remarkable considering the contexts he had heard it in.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks again."

Ziva tipped her head upwards, forcing Tony to move his own away from where he had been resting it against her forehead. Eyes barely closed, she pressed her lips slowly to his. The kiss was soft, and light, and didn't last long. They paused, sleepily, in the breath that followed, before Ziva tucked her head back into his underarm and exhaled.

Instead of saying what he wanted to say, he placed his free arm over where hers lay on his chest and kissed her on the forehead again, content to fall asleep in comfortable silence.

**Author's Note:**

> in For Lovers Running Away, I talked about how beds had always been kind of a sacred place for their relationship where everything else that's going on is left outside of it. I think this fic ties in there and could belong to that same universe.


End file.
